


Blood Type

by EmilyArmadillo



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Blood, F/M, Frenemies, Injury, Is the Master OOC? Maybe so., Needles, Telepathy, The Doctor is Hurt (Doctor Who), ambiguously set between Spyfall and Ascension of the Cybermen, author is not a medical professional, blood transfusion, hand-wavy science, possessive Master (Doctor Who)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 11:40:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28652901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmilyArmadillo/pseuds/EmilyArmadillo
Summary: The Doctor is injured and only her best enemy can help her.
Relationships: The Doctor/The Master (Doctor Who), Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 92





	Blood Type

Honestly, it's a wonder that the Doctor hadn't been shot by an alien weapon before now.

Ryan thinks this in a cold, disconnected way. He and Yaz drag the Doctor back to the Tardis as Graham holds the door open, white-faced. The Tardis door closes behind them by itself, as the time machine clangs an unsettling chord.

"We need a medical bay has anyone ever seen one?" Yaz asks. Ryan shakes his head.

"The rooms change all the time," he says, "hopefully we can find what we need."

That doesn't seem like much to go on, but the Tardis is helping them. The first door of the hallway off the control room is a medical center. They lift the unconscious Doctor onto a bed. Her blood is red, and it is rather everywhere.

Yaz gives directions, because she has emergency training and a cool head. "Graham, there's scissors on that table, we're taking her shirt off. Ryan, those towels."

There had been only one shot, but the weapon must have discharged multiple projectiles, whatever they were. Yaz pulls the Doctor's coat off and her shirt away. She alternates pressing towels to the Doctor to try and stop the bleeding, with taking the towels away long enough to try and figure out where they even needed to be pressing.

In a few minutes, they're fairly certain there were five wounds: one on the stomach, one on the chest, two on the collarbone, and one on the chin. They don't find any bullets, just holes. They apply pressure to them, listening to each other breathe. Slowly, the bleeding subsides.

"She's lost a lot of blood," Graham comments.

"I know," Yaz says. "I don't know what to do." She smooths her hair back with her forearm, but still leaves a streak of blood on her forehead.

"Who does?" Ryan asks. "Who's the Doctor's doctor?"

"The Tardis," Yaz realizes.

"What, sorry?"

"It has telepathic circuits. Maybe we can ask it what to do." Yaz runs to a wall and rests her forehead on a hexagonal panel. 'How do we help her,' she thinks, her eyes closed. 'Tell us what she needs.'

The floor tilts as the Tardis wheezes into flight.

"The Tardis is flying itself now?" Graham says, bewildered.

"She's trying to help," Yaz says. The shaking stops. "I'll see where we are," Yaz adds, bolting back to the control room. She opens the door and stops in confusion. The Tardis hasn't taken them to a hospital, or to anywhere. They're hanging in space, all darkness and stars. Seconds later, Yaz sees something outside. It's a moment before she understands what she's seeing. Wood panels fade in, and out, and back in. The object becomes solid, and the Tardis is resting on the porch of a house in the vacuum of space. O's house.

The Master comes out his door before Yaz has a chance to react. "Where is she?" he demands shortly. Yaz thinks to close the door, but the Master pushes past her into the control room. "Is that hers?" he asks, pointing at the blood on the floor.

"Wait, stop-" Yaz says, hurrying after him as he dashes down the corridor. He enters the med bay, to the protests of Ryan and Graham.

"You can't be here!" they exclaim.

"I rather can," the Master says distractedly, "I was invited." He scans the Doctor with a medical device from the nearby table.

"Invited!?"

"Did you ask her Tardis to find you help? Here I am. She's lost a lot of blood."

"We know," Graham says, "But why would you care? You're her enemy, you said."

"Precisely why she can't die of this," the Master snarls. "I need to replace the blood she's lost." He wipes his hands on a towel and goes looking through a cabinet. He pulls out a device about the size of a coffee-maker, with tubes sprouting from it like dangling arms.

"What is that, alien-blood-replicator-thing?" Ryan asks.

"It can generate blood," the Master agrees as he sets it up on a table next to the Doctor's bed, "but it needs some to start with. Half a liter."

"She can't possibly spare-!"

"No, of course she can't," the Master snaps. "But someone else can."

"What's her blood type, then?" Yaz asks. She, Ryan, and Graham all look ready to roll up their sleeves and give what's needed.

"It doesn't matter, the blood is replicated without antigens. It should, however, be of the same species." The Master rolls up his own sleeve and fits a needle into his vein without flinching. "So you see," he says, "I'm the only one who can do this. So do stay out of my way."

The humans stand back and frown deeply as he works. But they don't stop him when he pricks an IV into the Doctor's arm and lets the synthesized blood flow into her. By the way the Tardis's warning bells go quiet, they can only conclude it's helping.

The Master ignores the gazes of the humans, and passes the medical scanner over her again to see her blood pressure is improving, her hearts finding a rhythm. "You're not regenerating today," he says quietly.

* * *

The Doctor groans as she wakes up, and tries to feel her chest with her fingers. Someone shushes her and ensnares her wrist so she won't dislodge the IV in her arm. She blinks her eyes open and follows the IV up to the device from which it feeds blood into her, and puts the facts together. The pain in her chest. She was injured. She lost blood. Someone- she looks to who sits at her bedside and startles.

"Easy, Doctor," the Master says. He pushes her shoulders down when she tries to sit up. "Those blasters do pack a punch."

The Doctor tries to speak, but the shot to her chin makes it impossible to form words.

"Sorry?" the Master smirks.

The Doctor shakes her head to collect herself before speaking telepathically. 'My friends, where are they?'

'No, hello, Master, thank you for saving me?'

'Are they hurt?' she asks, glaring. It’s half as threatening as the Doctor hopes, and twice as adorable as the Master would admit.

The Master rolls his eyes spectacularly. "They're quite alright, they're just outside the door."

The door to the Tardis's medical bay was closed. 'Master, have you locked them out?' the Doctor asks, distressed. The Master says nothing, but closes his eyes and basks in the feeling of his name in her mind. The Doctor squeezes his hand to demand his attention. 'How did you get here?'

"You lost a lot of blood, you foolish thing. Your Tardis knew only one thing could help."

'She called you?' the Doctor wonders. Her eyes return to the blood bag. 'The blood transfusion,' she realizes. 'Your blood in my veins.'

The Master places his palm on the Doctor's chest, between her hearts. Three of her five bandages lie under his fingers. He leans down to speak into her ear. "I rather think that makes them my veins," he whispers. "Two hearts… both of them mine."

For a moment, neither of them move. They feel her hearts' beats.

'Thank you, Master, for saving me,' the Doctor says finally.

He smooths her hair around her ear. "Of course, my dear Doctor. We've talked about letting things kill you that aren't me."

The Doctor closes her eyes, resting them. 'You still could have let me regenerate. Am I to take it that you like this face?' She feels the Master stand up and opens her eyes to watch him go.

"Goodbye, Doctor. I had been in the middle of something," he teases, and walks to the door. When he opens it, the humans who'd been sitting against the walls outside jump to their feet. They glare at the Master as they rush past him to the Doctor's side. Still unable to speak, she pats their hands comfortingly.

"And next time, Doctor…" the Master says from the door, "you can just text me." He flashes her a grin as she protests incoherently in their minds.


End file.
